The Sins of Lord Easterbrook (10 page)

She hesitated. It might be wiser to avoid announcing her interest in this subject. However, exposing this evil was one of the reasons she had come to England. Nor was it a purpose apart from her desire to aid her brother, but intimately entwined with it.

Fate had handed her an unexpected opportunity in Lady Phaedra's request for these letters. Her father had always said to be alert to such moments and to make the most of them.

She dipped her pen and jotted two more paragraphs. Satisfied, she brought her letter to a close.

Let another correspondent restrict herself to stories about dress and manners. I promise you all of that, but also mystery and intrigue and secrets that are not even heard in your Parliament. I promise you both the exotic beauty and the terrible sorrow that is China today.

She set down her pen just as Isabella entered the library, carrying a stack of letters. “The mail has grown today.”

Leona broke some seals. Easterbrook had been correct. Invitations were arriving already. She would have to exercise more judgment than she possessed in deciding which to accept.

Isabella could not read English, but she understood the contents well enough. “Do we sell some jade now?”

Leona made some quick calculations. Her current wardrobe would not last through many of these events before looking tired. “I suppose that we must. Tell Tong Wei to see what offers he can get. This evening you and I will look through the trunk of silk that we brought with us too, and choose some fabric for dinner dresses and ball gowns.”

That afternoon Leona sat in Lady Phaedra's drawing room while her hostess read her letter to the journal readers. There were smiles during the first half, but a deep frown formed over the second.

“You did say that I should write about matters of importance too,” Leona said.

“You took me at my word, I see.”

“If it is
too
important, I could—”

“You will not change it. It is not what I expected, but it is compelling. Do you have the next one written yet?”

“I did not know if you would want a next one.”

Lady Phaedra laid the page on her lap. It glowed there in sharp contrast against the black garment on which it rested. If Lady Phaedra had appeared odd in the park, she looked theatrically so today, with her black dress and flowing red hair and no jewelry or adornments.

Leona occupied herself admiring the drawing room. The furnishings comprised an odd mix of styles, but each item was exquisitely crafted in its own right. The combination of surfaces, colors, and textures created a
vaguely exotic total that appeared more sumptuous than any particular item warranted.

“Does Easterbrook know that you wrote this, and plan more?” Lady Phaedra asked, her brow still furrowed over the paper.

“Why would I inform him of it?”

She received a sharp glance in response, then Lady Phaedra folded the letter. “My journal will be titled
Minerva's Banquet.
It would be appropriate if, among the fruits and sweets, there were a serving of meat. I will publish this, but only if you promise three more letters in a similar mode.”

She offered a modest sum for the letters. Leona was accepting when a footman arrived, bearing a card.

Lady Phaedra examined it. Her eyebrows rose. “Surely he wants my husband,” she said to the footman.

“He does, Madam. Lord Elliot, however, asks that you receive the visitor while he completes a letter that he is writing.”

Lady Phaedra told the footman to bring the visitor. She handed Leona the letter. “Tuck this into your reticule for now.”

The reason for doing so entered the room.

“You honor us, Easterbrook,” Lady Phaedra greeted. “Another daytime excursion, and to call on our humble abode no less. Society will not know what to make of it. I do not believe you have experienced so much sunlight in years.”

Easterbrook accepted her tease with smooth grace. “You are incorrect. My chambers do not block out the light. They are awash in it. Miss Montgomery, it is a pleasure to see you again.”

He turned his attention to the chamber, examining its furnishings with curiosity. “I see that you are settled in.”

“It has been six months, Easterbrook. I hope even a woman bad at settling in could manage it in that time. However, it was generous of you to wait to call until I was able to prepare for your visit. Permit me to have refreshment brought for you.”

“There is no need. I came to see Elliot, but he is occupied and threw me off on you.” He pierced them both with a sharp gaze that gave lie to his casual, distracted manner. “I sense that I have interrupted something, however.”

He strolled toward them, his attention focused on Lady Phaedra. Her amusement took on a sardonic edge while she faced him down.

“Phaedra, you would not be leading Miss Montgomery astray, would you? Involving her in some scheme that will bring her no credit?”

“I am incapable of leading any woman astray. Nor is Miss Montgomery a child who requires your interference.”

“Lady Phaedra is hardly leading me astray. Quite the opposite. I came here to ask her advice on which invitations to accept. She was so friendly in the park that I felt confident she would aid me.”

“I said that I would be happy to give that aid,” he said.

“I thought that a woman would understand nuances that a man might not.”

“Phaedra does not often deign to partake of the society you seek to frequent, so her advice cannot be
relied upon. You might spend the next month in the company of fools who waste your time.”

“Since you do not partake of this society either, and are my only other friend in London, I must be left to my own judgment then.”

“Perhaps two flawed opinions can together aid you better than one alone,” Lady Phaedra said. “Easterbrook will not mind joining his to mine, for whatever they are worth in sum. Will you, Easterbrook?”

For the next half hour Leona named names and Easterbrook opined on who was a fool worth knowing and who was a fool unworthy of her time. On several occasions he pointedly said she must attend a particular ball or party.

For the most part Lady Phaedra agreed with his assessments. Leona did not know if their combined intelligence had just mapped a true path for her, or if their combined ignorance would send her to wander in circles.

Lord Elliot entered just as they finished. With the skill of a practiced courtier, he permitted a little more conversation, then removed his brother to the library.

As soon as the door had closed on the gentlemen, Lady Phaedra held out her hand for the letter. “Easterbrook has this unnerving ability to know when people are dissembling, and we raised his curiosity. Lest he decide that I am indeed leading you astray, and find a way to interfere, you had better write your other letters as quickly as possible.”

“How could he interfere?”

“I think he has his ways when he chooses to use
them. It is always a mistake to underestimate that man, or to forget that he is Easterbrook.”

“Your home is very pleasant. Airy.” Christian offered the compliment as Elliot closed the library door.

“I find it odd that you chose today of all days to investigate just how pleasant it might be. There have been invitations aplenty that were not accepted.”

“I do not mind your attempts to draw me out, Elliot. But I do not have to cooperate with them either.”

Elliot accepted the fairness of that. “So what finally did draw you out?”

“I have been contemplating something, and realized that I should consult with you.”

“You are full of surprises today. Are you saying that you would like my advice?”

“I feel obliged to discuss this matter with you because it bears upon you. If you are compelled to offer advice, I have no choice but to hear it.”

Elliot made himself comfortable on one of the library's pale blue sofas. “You have my attention.”

He certainly did. Elliot's great gift was an ability to concentrate without losing hold of reality. No doubt that accounted for his success with those history books he wrote. And also for an evenness of temperament that suggested he had escaped the worst of the bad blood coursing through the Rothwell veins.

“Elliot, I find myself wondering if you have any expectations of one day having the title.”

Elliot's amazement filled the library. “You wonder
about the oddest things, Christian. Of course I have no such expectations. Third sons never do.”

There was no dissembling in that astonishment. No guile or secret resentment. “I am relieved to hear it. Once Hayden's son is born, the line will bypass you, of course. My anticipation of that happy event was clouded this morning by the thought you might not share the joy.”

Elliot peered over, perplexed. “It may not be a son. I trust that you will still find joy if it is not.”

“Of course, but it will be a son.”

“Christian, you cannot merely prefer that a son be born and it happens. I cannot believe that I am explaining that as if you would not know, but sometimes you—”

“It will be a son.”

Elliot rolled his eyes.

“And when it is, I will know the line is secure for the next generation. I refuse to be owned by the expectations of my station, but there are a few obligations that I do accept and that is one,” Christian explained. “In fact, I will step aside if I can arrange it. The title should have a more active man. A man like Hayden. There are responsibilities and—”

“Now you are definitely not talking sense. Your own son will secure the line, not Hayden's, for one thing. For another, if you believe there are obligations to be met, then meet them.”

“I will have no heir. I dare not.” The last words were out before he knew it. He shocked himself with the indiscretion. He paced away, toward the bookcases, and braced for Elliot's own shock to eddy toward him.

It never came. Instead, other emotions rolled in the
air behind his back. Worry. Maybe pity. Also surprise that the topic had been broached at all.

“You are not mad.” Elliot's voice came firmly. “Nor was she. No matter what was said about Mother then, or you now.”

“I know that I am not.” Nor was she. Christian knew that better than anyone. But he also knew the pain she had suffered, knowing what she knew about too many people. About him. She had retreated from everyone, but especially her eldest son. She had seen herself in him, and known that she could not help him.

“Is your concern tied to Father, then? Whatever he was, whatever he did, it is not in us. He made choices you would never make.” Rather more agitation flowed on Elliot's words this time. But then Elliot was still coming to terms with the fullness of that half of the legacy.

“I like to believe you are right, but sometimes I know you are wrong. However, this is not about him. For once.”

Youthful memories assaulted Christian as he stared at bindings in the silent library. The horror of knowing his mother's fear of their father and her certainty of his ruthlessness. The guilt that poured off the man along with the rivers of desperate love. The misery of both as his father turned bitter and controlling and his mother gave up hope for any happiness.

Christian had never spoken of it to anyone, but here he was, on one side of an open door with his youngest brother on the other.

He turned and faced him. Elliot's expression showed little more than patience.

“I know that I am not mad. Not even half so. Nor was she. I know that better than anyone. But she and I had much in common, and that suggests that our eccentricity is carried by our blood.”

“We all carry that blood. Hayden's child might too. Nothing is resolved by your conviction to have no heir.”

“His child might, that is true. I think that I will know soon. If so, I can help him in ways I might not be able to help my own. But I do not think it will come to that. Hayden is very.…normal, and Alexia is without any shadows at all.”

The conversation troubled Elliot more than expected. More than intended. But then it had veered into areas not anticipated.

“Christian, you reassure me that you are not half mad, as if I ever thought you were. But you also allude to eccentricity as if it is an affliction that cannot be escaped.”

“It is not an affliction.” Christian had never described his condition and was at a loss to begin to do so now. “Much as Hayden and I look much like our father, I inherited this feature from our mother. Since we all also received her ability to block out the world when we tend to a task or interest, I am not without compensations.”

“I do not understand.”

“I do not expect you to. I misspoke in alluding to it and wish I had not. I now reassure you that it is not the makings of great drama or misery. Just a bit of oddity.”

Elliot half accepted that. With time he would decide there was no cause for worry. Right now his brother's words returned him to the topic at hand. “I doubt that

Hayden will allow you to make him the marquess, even if you could find a way to arrange it. Best to put that idea out of your head. Take up the reins yourself if you believe they have been left hanging slackly.”

“Are you scolding me, Elliot?”

Elliot smiled. “It appears that I am.”

“Since I began the conversation, I do not get to indulge in annoyance with this presumptuous turn you have given it, I suppose.”

“That would indeed be unjust.”

“I can, however, simply end it, which I shall now do. I will take my leave. There is one other matter before I go.”

Elliot raised his eyebrows in question.

“Your lovely wife is cooking a stew and I think she has just added Miss Montgomery to the pot. Find out what is going on, and let me know, but don't inform her that I asked.”

“Christian, we do not live a marriage of mutual intrigue such as one finds in old plays. I will ask Phaedra outright, and share what I learn if she allows me to do so.”

There was nothing to do except let it stand at that. Christian left the house, certain that Phaedra would never permit Elliot to report on whatever scheme she and Leona were concocting.

Nor would Elliot be conveniently indiscreet. That was what happened when men fell in love. Their loyalties centered on their beloveds, not duty and family.